


Welcome to the Family

by melliejellie



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Confessions, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Hasetsu, M/M, Saint Petersburg, Sexual Identity, questioning identity, yoi pride week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-27 21:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15033719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melliejellie/pseuds/melliejellie
Summary: A collection of ficlets to celebrate Pride Month and the beautiful, open and affirming world created in Yuri on Ice.A celebration of the families we’re born with and the families we find.





	1. Day 1: Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> Happy YOI Pride Week, lovelies! And a happy Pride Month to us all!
> 
> This week I wanted to focus on Yuuri and Victor and the idea of family - the families we’re born with and the families we find. Some of us are born/raised by families that love us, all of our pieces. Some of us find families as we get to know ourselves better who love us, all of us, and even though there is no blood shared, these found families are profoundly important. 
> 
> So, get ready for some positive, feel-good fics. That's how I wanted to celebrate this month.
> 
> (All of the ficlets this week will take place during the series.)

“Yuuri seems so much more passionate than the others.” Victor says in English and turns towards Minako on his left, absentmindedly stroking Makkachin on his lap. 

The Nishigoris came over earlier to watch the theme announcements live together, and it turned into a small viewing party in the restaurant of the onsen. Even the spare amount of visitors have paused their conversations to listen to the man on the TV whose posters adorn most of the walls of the common areas. 

Minako doesn’t turn to face him. She stares at the TV, brows furrowed and lips pursed. The rest of Yuuri’s friends and family have their eyes glued to the television. Yuuko’s the only one with a reaction he can read, a slight blush forming on her cheeks. 

“He’s been talking a long time.” Victor uses his hands to help communicate his meaning, pantomiming someone talking and then stretching out his arms wide. Hiroko glances in his direction, her warm smile stretching a bit wider, before she turns her attention back to what her son is saying. 

Victor gives up, turning his attention back to Yuuri and Makkachin begging for more attention. “I really do hate that suit, though, and that tie.” He mutters to himself.

The scene’s become a comfortable one since he arrived in Japan, everyone gathered around a table to eat, watch TV, or watch as Toshiya and Minako’s competitive spirits drive them to try to drink the other under the table. It’s a far cry than when he first arrived and everyone walked on eggshells around him, Yuuri especially. Except Hiroko. She beamed, called him Vicchan, and that was it. 

He’s content tonight, although Yuuri is usually sitting next to him, leaning in as he grows sleepier from a day of training. That’s another thing that had changed dramatically since he arrived. Gone was the confident pole dancer and in his place was an anxious, stammering, but no less attractive Yuuri. There were glimpses, of course, particularly when Yuuri skated, and Victor had held on to those moments, built on them through hugs, long talks, and hand holding when he could. Yuuri did the same, reaching out to him in little ways. 

It was slow, painfully slow at times, but as nervous as Yuuri was on the outside, Victor figured he was the same on the inside as he tried to learn how to navigate real, profound feelings for another person. 

Victor sighs into Makkachin’s fur, running his hands over the spot between his ears. Yuuri’s speaking too fast for him to catch anything using the Japanese he’s learned, but Victor knows he’s clearly missing something impactful, judging by the way no one else is talking anymore. He’s heard the Japanese word for “love” several times, but he was ready for that because, of course, as his coach, he knew the theme Yuuri would be presenting tonight. 

Minako grumbles something next to him and Yuuko responds, a quiet hum of conversation starting to build between Yuuri’s friends and family. Mari, eyes wide, whispers something in her mother’s ear. The triplets pepper Yuuko with questions, but her attention is turned to Victor. Minako has finally turned to face him, too.

He smiles, grateful that Minako’s years of travelling for ballet gave the two of them a common language to use. Minako will tell him what Yuuri just said. 

“Victor,” she starts slowly, “You should talk to Yuuri when he gets home tonight.”

“What about?” 

Yuuko chews her bottom lip as she watches the exchange. 

“Just ask him about what he said.” Minako says, soft but stern. 

“Can’t you--”

“It’ll be better coming from him.”

Behind them, Mari bursts out laughing, her voice cracking as she shouts in Japanese. Her attention turns to Victor, eyes lit up with some emotion he can’t pin down, she points and, in English, chokes out, “This is perfect!” Her tone punctuates each word sharply.

Now Victor really needs to know what he missed.

 

***

 

Minako volunteers to pick up Yuuri from the train station and she, correctly, assumes that Victor will want to come, too. The walk isn’t far, but it’s late and everyone agrees that it’s better to be picked up by loved ones than walk home alone - no matter how much Yuuri sometimes appreciates the time by himself. The Nishigoris head home to get the triplets in bed, Yuuri’s family gets the onsen ready to shut down for the night, and the two of them head out. 

Yuuri’s quiet when he gets in the car, joining Victor in the backseat. After Victor hugs him hard and tells him he did a great job today, Yuuri and Minako small talk about what happened and Victor watches him talk, catches the yawns he tries to stifle.

Victor wants to push forward, but now’s not the time. Minako keeps eyeing him in the rearview mirror and even he can pick up on the message. He agrees, but it’s another time when he’s not sure if he should push or pull back and wait for Yuuri to share on his own.

They fall into a comfortable silence, and Victor places his hand on top of Yuuri’s in the seat between them. He glances over, Yuuri’s features only clearly visible when they pass under a streetlamp, but the soft smile is easy to see. Victor feels just a little too old to be giddy over holding a boy’s hand in the backseat of the car, but that’s right about where Yuuri has managed to take his state of mind over the last several weeks. 

Victor decides to hold onto his questions until Minako has left for the night, a playful slap at Victor’s back as she parts. Yuuri waves as she drives off and turns around. “Thanks for picking me up.” He beams. 

“Of course.” He keeps the short distance between them, but as Yuuri turns to walk towards the house, he stops him with a quick, gentle pull on his shoulder. “You did a great job.” He reiterates. “And your family was very interested in what you said today. I was sad I couldn’t understand most of it.”

The softness leaves Yuuri’s features as he tenses, the details on his face growing sharper. “I got a little carried away. Embarrassing.” He laughs, wringing his hands together. “Everyone else just said their theme and was done.”

“I liked yours more.” Victor tries to look him in the eyes, but Yuuri looks away towards the house. 

Yuuri laughs again. “But you didn’t even understand it all.” He stares at a spot on the ground.

“I liked it because you were being you.” Victor smiles, but Yuuri’s still looking away. His hands itch with the desire to reach out and pull him closer as the cogs begin turning in Victor’s mind as he adds up Yuuri’s theme, his family’s reactions to the conference, Yuuri’s behavior now, the last few weeks of child-like crush behavior from two grown men. He lets himself give in to the joyfully anxious knot in his stomach. 

“I was a mess. But it’s over now, thankfully.” Yuuri looks up from his shoes, a compensating smile carved onto his face.

“You weren’t a mess. You were passionate. I liked it.” He says for the third time, hoping it will sink in. “I do wish I knew what you said, though. Minako-sensei told me I should ask you.”

Yuuri’s careful smile falters. He picks at the hem of his jacket, looking back down. “It was just too much. I got carried away because I was nervous and--” He cuts himself off, letting the last barely audible words fall into the night air. 

“Why did you get carried away?” Victor wonders if he should offer something besides questions, but he’s still unsure of his ability to guide Yuuri forward without making him close back tight within himself. 

“My theme was so awkward. I don’t know why I chose it.”

“You don’t?” Victor’s voice is light. “But you had so much confidence when you told me about it, about ‘love’ and your connection to your skating, your friends, your family.”

“I know, I mean--” And Yuuri cuts himself off again. 

Victor watches him struggle and gives him an out. “You don’t have to tell me now, that’s okay. I just really want to know sometime because-” he pauses, selecting his next few words carefully, “I would feel better knowing you-” this time he pauses for his own sake, pushing out the words “felt the same.”

He inwardly cringes. The charismatic Victor Nikiforov, charming with any reporter and fan, unable to say something sincere to the man he’s come to -- he can’t even say the word inside his own head. Suddenly, he’s ready to give Yuuri all the time and space he needs, since he can’t even do it right now. 

He’s startled as Yuuri stiffens his arms at his sides, brushing against his jacket, like he’s bracing himself. “No, now’s fine. Now is good.” He finally meets Victor’s gaze and he looks pained, but hopeful. 

Victor runs through ideas of how to react in his head. There are so many things he can do or say, and emotions are a foreign language to him. Oh, he has plenty, but he buries them under collected charisma. 

He makes his choice. Victor closes the gap between them and pulls Yuuri in close against his chest. He wills his body to be less rigid, but settles for resting his head gently on Yuuri’s, his hair tickling his cheek. He closes his eyes and breathes in the moment, trying to say everything he needs to without words.

But Yuuri needs to hear the words, he knows it. He’s not sure where to start. He’s imagined what he would say in this moment before going to bed dozens of times, but all of the rehearsed phrases feel too insincere, too practiced, trying too hard to be flowery and metaphorical when no one needs that. 

Yuuri beats him to the starting line. “My theme this season is love.” Yuuri’s arms wrap around Victor’s middle softly. “Today I got carried away because when I started thinking about why I love skating and came back to it, why I love my friends and family, I kept thinking about you.”

Victor’s heart jumps in his chest. He wants to jump in, blurt out everything, but he holds it in.

“I said - today I said that I don’t have a name for what I feel for you, how I want to keep you in my life - hold onto you - but that I decided to - call it love.” His words leave his mouth slowly, spoken half into Victor’s shoulder, half into the wind that has picked up around them. 

“That sounds like love to me.” He swallows, feeling Yuuri’s heart beating and knowing Yuuri must be able to feel his, too. “I love you, too, Yuuri.”

The arms around Victor’s middle tighten and he sighs into the touch, swaying a little from side to side with Yuuri’s face pressed against his shoulder. 

He has no idea how much time passes with him blissfully unaware of everything around them until a door slams behind him. Yuuri jumps but doesn’t let go. 

He hears Mari’s unmistakable cackle, the shifting of beer crates, and then another opening and closing of a door.

“And my whole family knows.” Yuuri groans against him.

Victor doesn’t add that anyone watching the news might have also connected the dots. “I think so, yes.”

Yuuri whines again and Victor holds him a little tighter. He thinks of Hiroko’s wide smile from earlier, the soft tone Minako used when she told him to talk to Yuuri. He absolutely remembers everything about Mari yelling “This is perfect!”

“But I don’t think it’s going to be a problem.” Victor adds.

Yuuri turns his head and pulls back a little to meet his eyes. There’s an unmistakable single wet line drawn down his cheek. 

“They all heard me.” Yuuri seems to be replaying what he said in his head on repeat. 

“I think they were surprised, surprised that you were so honest, but -” Yuuri cringes, so Victor quickly finishes, “they were happy.”

Victor can feel Yuuri’s body relax a little. Yuuri leans against him a little more, rests his cheek back on his chest. “I love you, Victor.”

There’s going to be an exciting breakfast conversation tomorrow, for sure. Mari will steamroll in with the best intentions. Yuuri will be mortified. Hiroko will have something kind and wise and to say. Toshiya will probably say very little, but smile and nod. Victor will understand very few of the words, but he’ll know what they mean. 

Victor will sit next to Yuuri, hold his hand under the table for support. He’ll watch him blush and chime in when he can. Victor will feel content, safe, the whole time because he’ll remember what it sounded like when someone told him they loved him, really loved him, and what it felt like to know that those spoken words were real and true.


	2. Day 2: Overcoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Cup of China, most things in Victor and Yuuri's lives are progressing - with one notable exception.

Since Victor and Yuuri returned from the Cup of China, everything has accelerated. Their training regimen is tougher to prepare Yuuri for the Rostelecom Cup. There are more press events in Japan as they try to capitalize on his momentum, and Yuuri needs to be ready for those, too. 

Business has picked up at the onsen as visitors book rooms to be near Victor Nikiforov and/or Katsuki Yuuri, though there’s still mercifully a large amount of patrons who have no idea who either of them are. 

Victor’s connections with Yuuri’s family members have grown, too. He laughs more with Mari and helps Toshiya with chores, but it’s his mornings with Hiroko he cherises most. As the earliest risers, Victor and Hiroko have an amicable routine of drinking tea together first thing in the morning. Hiroko tries out new English she’s picked up to talk to Victor while he tries his best to impress her with the Japanese he’s learning. 

Then there’s Yuuri. He initiates kisses with Victor more now, in stolen moments at the rink or around the house. Lately, when Victor pulls him closer, he doesn’t pull away, but gives in. To a point. 

Everything is progressing. 

With one notable exception. 

Victor and Mari are the only two left at the dinner table. Yuuri’s gone off to video chat with Phichit and Yuuri’s parents have left to fall asleep to the news like they do most nights. Mari eyes him from across the table, her face hovering over a large, half-empty mug of beer. He can tell she’s thinking. 

“You and Yuuri? Have you and Yuuri--” She shoots him a questioning glance. Her brows furrow for a moment, clearly searching for the word she wants to use in English. She gives up quickly, growling in feigned frustration. Instead she holds up her hands and makes a rude gesture - the meaning of which Victor understands immediately.

Victor can feel his eyes stretch wide open. He shakes his head. “No, no… no.” He repeats. He feels a blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck.

Mari looks him up and down, like she’s deciding if he’s lying. She raises an eyebrow. “Yuuri is slow…” she hums as she thinks, “careful. Do not make Yuuri cry. If Yuuri cry, I hit Victor.” She punches her hand against an open palm, but there’s a gleam in her eye. 

Victor laughs, but keeps the eye contact. He purses his lips as he thinks of the Japanese he can say to respond to her, meet her in the middle with her language learning. “Never - Yuuri cry. I love Yuuri.”

It’s not until he’s going to bed that night that he remembers that he did make Yuuri cry, just a few days ago at the last competition. He runs his hands over his face roughly, frustrated with himself. Yuuri might slow things down with his self-confidence struggles, but Victor knows better than most that he has the emotional intelligence of a rock and that isn’t helping anyone.

 

***

 

Yuuri’s stuck in another mistake spiral. Victor watches him, wishing he had a magic button that made him stop. The pattern doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s like a runaway train. Yuuri will get tired from pushing himself too hard. He’ll make a mistake in whatever jump he’s working on because he’s so tired. He’ll refuse to let himself rest until he corrects the mistake enough times to satisfy the expectation he’s set for himself. 

It’s hard for Victor to see, knowing he has no idea how or if he could help. He’s already tried to plead with him to stop today, even just for a moment. But Yuuri snapped that he’s just going to do “one more,” until one more was eight more and then Yuuri could only reply with a growl, “just one more.”

Victor slumps against the boards, holding his head up on one palm while the other drapes over the side. Tonight he’ll help Yuuri care for all of the bruises. Victor knows the damage from all of these falls will set them back in terms of practice tomorrow. They’ve been down this road before. 

When Yuuri finally skates off the ice, Victor wordlessly helps him remove his skates and pack up their things from the rink for the day. Yuuri doesn’t even try to talk. He’s still breathing hard and Victor knows he’s in pain. But when Victor takes his hand in his on the steps of the Ice Castle, he squeezes back. 

After dinner as the house winds down for the night, Yuuri winces when Victor finishes taking off the last ice pack from his legs and elevates the worst of it using a pillow at the end of his bed. Looking up at Victor, he seems apologetic but exhausted. They haven’t spoken much during the evening. Victor isn’t sure how to help, other than tending to his injuries, and Yuuri is always so worn out after pushing himself like this. 

Victor is sitting on the edge of Yuuri’s bed, his body turned towards him. He cups Yuuri’s face in his hand, running a thumb over his cheek. Yuuri sighs into the touch. “Thank you,” Yuuri says quietly, “and I’m sorry.”

He wants to reply ‘it’s okay,’ but truly, it isn’t. Physical effects aside, he can only understand a fraction of the mental toll this must take on Yuuri. It’s not okay, but it’s not like Yuuri chooses to be this way. He doesn’t need Victor trying to rush in and fix something that can’t be fixed so easily. 

Victor bends down and kisses his forehead, continuing to stroke his cheek as he sits back up. “Sleep well tonight, Yuuri.” He moves to get up, but feels a gentle tug on his hand. 

Yuuri meets his eyes and the intensity of his stare catches Victor off-guard. “Can you stay?” He tucks his head a little farther into his pillow, muffling his voice. “Rough day.”

That night, Victor chases after sleep without much reprieve, too lightheaded from the feeling of Yuuri in deep sleep breathing next to him. 

 

***

 

Slipping into the other’s bed to sleep becomes a routine over the next couple of weeks. Victor earns an almost daily dose of side eye from Mari at the breakfast table, but there’s no need for a sisterly discussion.

Nothing happens, after all. Victor’s settled into being the big spoon with Yuuri curled up next to him. Sometimes they’re in Yuuri’s bed. Sometimes he comes to stay with Victor and Makkachin. But Yuuri’s always the one tightly pulled into himself and Victor wraps his body around his smaller frame.

One morning, voice still thick with sleep, Yuuri casually admits that he sleeps better when Victor’s there. Victor’s heart stops for a second. Those words are enough to get Yuuri anything.

Every night, Victor keeps his own wants in check. He marvels at how easily Yuuri can undo years of Victor methodically switching off parts of himself to survive. Sexual desires weren’t on his radar for years, spare the occasional one-night stand from a night out or, he shudders remembering, the Olympic village. 

But with Yuuri close everyday, and now at night, his imagination has started to run wild. He doesn’t want to stop at bandaging his injuries, holding hands on the couch, or being the big spoon as Yuuri slips into a deep sleep. Especially not since Yuuri has started pushing things forward, in his own way. 

The house has fall quiet, only Mari’s heavy footsteps on the stairs echo in the hallways. Yuuri’s turned in to face Victor, his slow, gentle kisses gaining momentum. One of his hands slides a trail up Victor’s side and Victor allows himself to feel hopeful. They’ve done this dance most nights this week. Little gasps will escape Yuuri’s perfect lips and Victor’s whole body will light on fire with the anticipation of reciprocating. Then Yuuri reels himself back in suddenly and Victor’s left edgy and needy as he fights to fall asleep. 

Tentatively, Victor moves his hands from Yuuri’s back and slips it under his t-shirt. Yuuri sighs against his lips and tightens his grip on Victor’s side, deepening the kiss. He feels Yuuri press against him harder and a little whine escapes Victor’s lips.

The spell is broken. Yuuri pulls back and screws his eyes shut.

Usually it will end there. Yuuri will whisper “good night, Vitya” and roll over leaving Victor stunned on the other side of the bed. Not tonight. 

“Is something wrong?” Victor asks, knowing it’s a loaded question. It always is with Yuuri. 

Yuuri sighs. “No,” he staring at Victor’s chest, fidgeting with the loose bits of Victor’s t-shirt, “maybe. Not wrong, just, I don’t know.” 

“You can tell me anything, you know?”

Yuuri nods gradually against the pillow, sighing into the fabric. His bottom lip sticks out just a little and Victor wants to wrap him in his arms again, kiss him until he lets go again. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he starts, “I mean, I do, in theory.” He groans in embarrassment. “It’s not just that, not just the whole,” bits of his body squirm as he speaks like he’s trying to crawl out of his skin piece by piece, “first time and everything - oh, I can’t talk about it.”

Yuuri’s entire face scrunches into itself, eyes shut tight, lips a hard, straight line. Victor watches, waits for him to slowly relax again. He hugs Yuuri a little closer. “My first time,” he starts his story, speaking the words against Yuuri’s soft hair, “was a disaster. It was with a girl that I shared rink time with. Right away, I was like, ‘oh this is not right,’ but we went through with it. It was all elbows and knees and awkward adjusting, a real rushed job before her mom got back home.” He pauses, taking a breath. “My other first time, the slightly better one, was with a man that--”

“See? How did you know?” Yuuri interrupts, burrowing his face into Victor’s shirt. 

“What?”

“How did you know the first time was a disaster, that it wasn’t right, or-” Yuuri searches for the word, “how did you know about what you wanted, who you were?”

Victor takes a moment to process, adding up the pieces of Yuuri’s question. He feels a sting behind his eyes and swallows before replying. “How did I know what was right for me?”

Victor feels Yuuri nod against him.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I didn’t for a while, really. That first time felt so wrong, but I told myself it was just the wrong person. I ignored having important conversations with myself for so long by only thinking about skating. Nothing else mattered if I could just be the best at what I loved.” Victor sighs, remembering. Yuuri has no idea what an important role he plays in all of this yet. Victor moves a hand to trail soft circles in Yuuri’s hair.

“But, of course, it did matter. I’d keep myself so busy all day that it was only right before bed when my questions would finally burst through and keep me awake. If I was skating, I could ignore who I noticed when I was out with friends. If I was busy, I could forget that the guy at the coffee shop next to the rink was the first person I thought about in the morning. If I worked myself to the bone, I could slip up, give in every now and then, but I thought could put off those thoughts forever.”

Victor’s not sure how to continue. Yuuri’s grown still and quiet beside him. He listens to Yuuri’s breath and can feel it through the thin cotton of his shirt. His confession hits heavy on his heart. Victor’s never said any of this out loud before. 

“And then I saw you.” Victor swallows hard, putting his tongue to the roof of his mouth to quell the sting behind his eyes. “And then I got to know you, here in Hasetsu. I saw you blush constantly.” He laughs, and he hears Yuuri laugh, too, along with a sniffle. 

Victor continues, closing his eyes and letting recollections play on his eyelids like a movie. “I watched you laugh with your family. I saw how serious you can be when you skate, how much it matters to you. I was attracted to you, but then I loved you, Yuuri. Then it was as though those questions didn’t matter so much because I was lucky enough to meet you, to love you, and know that you loved me back.” There’s a thin, wet trail from his eyes down to the pillow and he leaves it there, unwilling to let Yuuri go to wipe it away. 

“So it’s, it’s okay, to not be sure about what I am, the right words to use, as long as, as long as I love you, right?” Yuuri pulls back and meets his gaze, smiling warmly although Victor can tell he’s been crying, too. 

“It’s perfectly okay.” Victor reassures him. “Absolutely the okay-est.” He laughs the snotty kind of laugh that comes after a quiet cry and Yuuri mirrors him with a soft chuckle. 

Yuuri wipes his eyes, his smile starting to drift. “Because everyone else seems to know who they are already.”

“Nobody else is you, though.” Victor searches for the right words, and always feels like he comes up short. “And most of us are still getting to know ourselves anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Yuuri turns over, backing into Victor’s embrace the way he does before he goes to sleep. They fall into silence for so long that Victor wonders if Yuuri’s fallen asleep, but then Yuuri startles him with another question. “And you, you want to do more than, than kiss me, right?”

“I do.” Victor answers plainly. “And what do you want?”

“I want more than that, too.” Victor’s surprised by how quickly Yuuri answers.

“But not tonight?”

“Not tonight,” he pauses, “Vitya.”

“But maybe soon?” Victor ventures, the demonstrative nickname doing something horribly wonderful to his insides. 

“Soon.” Yuuri replies, stifling a yawn. “Because it’s us, and nothing else matters, right? If it’s just us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2, yea! All of my spiel is written in the author's notes in Day 1 so I'll just say thank you so much for reading! I wrote these for YOU. I hope you enjoy them. 
> 
> And Yuuri's right, you know. Even if you don't always know what words to use for yourself, it's okay.
> 
> The okay-est.
> 
> Because you're you.


	3. Day 3: Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the Rostelecom Cup, Victor and Yuuri are bothered by the press and Yuuri blurts out something big.

Victor’s come to understand that people who don’t know Yuuri might call him timid. He also thought that when he first arrived in Hasetsu, a stark contrast to the version of Yuuri he’d expected in his head. 

In reality, Yuuri calculates. He’s careful. But never timid. 

Victor’s been on the receiving end of Yuuri’s intense stare from the other side of the boards, his face flushed from training, and heard the litany of forceful reasons why he refuses to change anything about his step sequence because he likes how it is now. 

Victor’s heard him argue with Mari about chores around the onsen, both of them too stubborn and too knowledgeable of the other’s weaknesses to back down.

Victor’s felt Yuuri’s strength when he takes charge and pins Victor to the mattress, two warm calloused hands pressing down on his shoulders, Yuuri’s mouth claiming his as Victor gives in and lets go. 

No, Yuuri isn’t timid. 

Still, Victor feels a need to protect him in public, to stand beside him and guide him through a crowd outside of a rink where Yuuri feels overwhelmed, or make sure they find a spot away from other people when they go out to dinner. Yuuri doesn’t need it. He’s done well enough on his own. But Victor’s heart swells every time Yuuri smiles up at him with silent gratitude. 

Outside the Megasport Arena in Moscow, a line of fans and reporters awaits them outside the big, glass doors. Security will help push them through to the car, but Victor places a guarding arm around Yuuri. 

“Your free skate’s come a long way from China. I have a good feeling about the next two days.” Victor ends his coaching feedback for the day on a purposefully positive note. 

“Thanks.” Yuuri replies. He sounds tired. 

The security guard ahead of them pushes open the doors and Victor feels Yuuri tense. He looks over and sees that Yuuri already has his hand cupped around the side of his face. 

Victor flips the switch on his infamous grin, ready to take the attention and fire back short answers in Russian. 

They move through the tunnel of people as quickly as they can. Yuuri stops with a few short bows of his head to slap his name on some items and thank the fans that reach out to him. The rest reach for Victor, both physically and vocally. Victor dismisses the reporters with a wave of his hand. 

“Victor, are you retiriting?”

“Victor, what made you begin coaching this season?”

“Victor, how do you feel about not competing tomorrow?”

“I’ve already said that I’m here to focus on Yuuri.” He sings. Yuuri sighs beside him. 

“Victor, is there something going on between you and Yuuri Katsuki?”

He trips over his feet and keeps walking, continuing to deliver his practiced response. But the reporter doesn’t stop. That one male voice carries over the small crowd. 

The question isn’t new. The phrasing might change, but they’ve gotten it ever since the Cup of China. It almost makes Victor regret his decision to kiss Yuuri in front of the whole skating world. Almost. 

“Are you two in a relationship?” Victor focuses his attention on the short distance to the car. Beside him, Yuuri clenches his fist. 

“What’s your stance on coaches being involved with their skaters?” Victor feels Yuuri look at him. He looks back but can’t read the expression on his face. He’s not anxious. Frustrated? Angry?

Victor turns towards the man and stretches his smile wider, reigning in his knee-jerk reaction to seal his measured response with a playful wink. Now’s not the time. Instead he keeps smiling and guides Yuuri by the shoulders away from the intrusion.

The same voice shouts again, “Victor, are you involved with Yuuri Katsuki?”

Yuuri twists out of Victor’s gentle hold, spins on his heel to face the reporter. 

“Yes.” Yuuri says sharply, but simply. He turns back around, shrugging off more questions with his shoulders as he pulls Victor by the arm towards the exit where a car is waiting to take them to the hotel. 

Victor, eyes blown wide, stares after him and follows. 

As soon as the car doors close behind them, Yuuri breaks out into shaking bouts of laughter. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I did that.” His whole face is beaming. Tears are starting to leak from the corner of his eyes as he open-mouth laughs, slumped against the seat of the car. 

“I -- I can’t either.” Victor stammers, just watching Yuuri double over on himself. A few soft laughs escape, but it’s nothing to match Yuuri’s enthusiasm and it’s mostly just because it’s been a while since he heard Yuuri laugh this hard. He’s still processing. 

“Oh, it’s just so annoying.” Yuuri hums lightly as the laughter winds down. “And I had this flash in my brain of me just yelling out ‘yes!’ and it felt so good, so I just did it.” He takes a deep breath, the last of the laughter finally subsiding. “Oh my god, I did that.” He repeats, looking at Victor, eyes wide and full of sunlight. 

Victor smiles. “You did. You really did.” Yuuri starts to chew his lip. Victor quickly adds, “I mean, I don’t think there’s a single fan out there who questioned it after I tackled you with my mouth in China, but you do have to spell things out for reporters.” He pauses. “I thought it was wonderful.”

Yuuri’s still vibrating with energy and Victor scoots a seat over to lean against him. He places an open palm on Yuuri’s lap and Yuuri quickly wraps his own hand around it. 

“This’ll change everything, won’t it?” Victor can hear the worry creeping into his voice.

“Nope.” He replies so quickly, Yuuri jumps a little. “They will still ask the same dumb questions. Everyone will say the same things. They’ll keep asserting we shared a nice little ‘friend kiss.’ Or that I’m breaking some unspoken coaching rule. Or that whatever we do is fine, but we better not flaunt it.” The last one makes Victor grit his teeth. He hates that one the most. “And we’ll just keep--”

“Ignoring it.” Yuuri rubs his thumb along Victor’s hand, then taps it along the same path. Yuuri’s foot taps on the car floor. He turns his body so all of him is facing Victor. “I wanted them to know, tomorrow I wanted them all to know who my short program was for.” 

The hand that was stroking his palm reaches up to clasp at the front of Victor’s button down. Yuuri tugs him smoothly and Victor glides in willingly, a genuine grin gracing his face this time. “And who is your short program for, Yuuri?” Victor teases. 

Yuuri answers with a long kiss, one that erases the tension from Victor’s shoulders and momentarily makes him forget where they are. 

When they break apart, Victor smirks. “Just to be clear, it’s me, right?” 

Yuuri swats at him playfully. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3, Day 3! Another one done. 
> 
> The next few (4, 5, and 6) are my faves that I wrote for the week. Looking forward to tomorrow! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. YES, you're fantastic.


	4. Day 4: Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri wakes up from accidentally falling on the couch and hears Victor and Mari hanging out.

Yuuri startles awake on the couch, crashing his toes against the armrest and wincing when he receives a fresh reminder of how long his feet were shoved into his skates today. He pats his body looking for his phone in the now-dark room, feeling underneath the blanket someone must have thrown on top of him. 

The room is quiet, but down the hallway Yuuri can see yellow light trickling down and hear bursts of laughter. Yuuri feels warm in his chest. In between Mari’s powerful howling he can hear Victor’s deep chuckle. 

When he first arrived in Hasetsu, Yuuri remembers Victor prided himself on his ability to keep to a rigid schedule and forced Yuuri to try to do the same. Mari’s been the best bad influence.

Stretching, more carefully this time so he doesn’t hit any bruises, he shrugs off the blanket and shuffles his feet down the hallway, rubbing his face awake. It’s not too late. He can join them for a little while. Plus, when Victor stays up late, it usually means practice starts mercifully later than usual the next day.

Usually. Sometimes it means Victor wakes up at the same time and makes them both go for a longer run to pay some sort of price for slacking off. 

As he drags his feet closer to the room, he can hear them grow quiet and still, there’s sounds of something hitting the table, then both of them erupt in another round of laughter. He rounds the corner and finds them sitting close, side by side on the floor, their backs to him, hunched low and hovering above the surface of the kotatsu. There’s a couple of empty beer cans off to the side, their playing space cleared spare one empty glass tumbler. 

Victor picks up a coin and holds it to his eye then stretches out his arm like he’s lining up his shot. Mari laughs and swats at his shoulder. He nudges her back, then lifts his hand to aim the coin at the table. The coin bounces and just misses the glass. Victor groans and covers his face with his hands dramatically and Mari throws up her hands triumphantly. 

“Yes! You lose. My turn.” Mari grabs the coin with her right hand and uses her left to shove Victor away. “Don’t cheat.” She forcefully accents each word in English to prove her point. 

Victor flops onto his back, acting like the shove had more power behind it than it did. He meets Yuuri’s gaze. “Oh, Yuuri.” Victor looks up at him from the floor.

“Oh?” Mari spins around. “I thought Yuuri-kun was sleepy.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “I was.” He stretches and yawns. “Still am, but I’m up.” He looks at Victor and changes his tone to the one he uses with Makkachin. “What’cha doing, Vitya?”

“Winning.” Victor announces from the floor.

“No! No! Liar. Victor is a liar.” Mari’s eyes open wide as she points. “I am the winner. Victor is terrible. Mari is the best.” She folds her arms resolutely. 

Yuuri laughs. “Great English, Mari.”

“Thank you. I drank many beers. My English is better now.”

Victor claps, sitting up, and Mari takes a little bow from where she’s sitting.

Yuuri smiles. “I bet I can beat both of you.”

Mari raises an eyebrow and scoots over, gesturing for Yuuri to sit, challenge in her eyes. That look is familiar. Each member of their family has a terribly competitive spirit, the rest of them keep it a little closer to their chests than Mari does. For his sister, everything from washing dishes to serving customers is a chance for a competition. 

Victor perches his head on Yuuri’s shoulder once he sits down. “Win for me, Yuuri.” He purrs. “Your sister is a monster.” He adds with a laugh. The puffs of breath are hot on Yuuri’s ear. Mari cackles, proud of the description. 

Yuuri truly does try his best, but he misses, like he expected to. He’s never had a penchant for drinking games, especially not while sober. 

“Move, please.” Mari looks smug. She scoops up the coin from the table and in one smooth motion lifts it up, tosses it down, and the three of them watch it land inside the glass. 

Mari turns to face them and holds out both of her arms as if it were effortless, and it actually did look that way. Yuuri’s not surprised. “I am still the best.” 

“Maybe at this, but at everything else-” Yuuri shoot back a look of his own. 

Mari laughs, replying, “Okay, but Victor is the worst.” 

Yuuri snorts. Victor makes a squeaky offended sound from his spot on Yuuri’s shoulder, then wraps his arms around Yuuri’s middle, kissing his neck. 

Mari clicks her tongue. “Gross. You two, go to bed.” She waves her hand at the two of them, a little smile peeking from the corner of her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing my ficlet for day 5 before I had any idea what to do for this one. The document just said "I have no clue" for a few days. I wanted it to be something with Mari, but I didn't know where I wanted it to go. 
> 
> Then I just had this image of the two of them staying up late together and I loved it so much. They would become good friends, and later siblings in their own way, wouldn't they? Oh, I just see it!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Day 5: Belonging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor attends a festival with the Katsuki family and - even though he sticks out like a giant, handsome, foreign thumb - he fits right in.

Victor’s Russian blood flows excitedly through his body the moment they step outside. The evening air is sharp when he breathes it in, November cold and laced with salt. It smells like so many memories.

Yuuri’s been explaining it to him all week. Toshiya worked with the Neighborhood Association to build a big float out of straw, bamboo, and decorative pieces of paper. No one’s seen it yet aside from the group of dads and Toshiya’s spoken more than usual every night at dinner sharing funny stories from the construction process. 

“It doesn’t happen every year,” Yuuri hums as he thinks, “I don’t remember why, though. It’s something historic.” His voices trails off at the end but he continues with an excitable tone. “But it doesn’t matter, because the town picks the best one and then we light them all on fire and feel warm as we eat a ton of festival food. I love it.”

Yuuri has a hand on his sleeve as they weave through the growing crowd. 

Toshiya left hours ago to meet with the group of men from the neighborhood he’ll be carrying the float with. 

“Men only.” Mari rolls her eyes beside him as Yuuri continues to explain. 

“They’ll all be so drunk by the time the parade starts.” Yuuri sighs with a chuckle. “It makes it more fun.”

At that Mari nods sharply, lifting up her carton of sake, tipping it like a toast. A juice box for adults. It has a straw that punches through the top and everything. Victor marvels at the wonder of this country. 

For his part, Victor is stuck somewhere in between wanting to stoop his shoulders and try to blend in until night falls or just lean in to the fact that everyone watches him when he walks around town. It’s not malicious. The same people who stare or make little whispers to each other as he passes are the same ones that will give him a bag of carrots to take back to the onsen or give him a free coffee when he and Yuuri are out walking around Hasetsu. 

In Russia, as long as it wasn’t an Olympic year, if Victor was noticed it was because someone knew too much about figure skating or they had seen him on advertisements. In Hasetsu, Victor is noticed everywhere because he is the Katsuki family’s special foreign guest. He is interesting because he doesn’t fit the mold, but he is special because the town knows which family he belongs to. 

The four of them take their place along the parade route standing in a line, touching shoulders - Victor, Yuuri, Mari, and Hiroko. Somewhere in the crowd is Yuuko and her family, but with everyone in town gathered together, plus the sea of seasonal visitors, no amount of texting current landmarks (“We’re by that weird fish statue!”) was enough to allow them meet up yet. 

The procession begins at twilight, the sky still blue but quickly fading into dark pink and purple hues. Ahead of all of the floats is a group of men dressed in exquisitely traditional garb and Victor snaps a few photos to post later. The men pass by playing music on instruments Victor can’t name and he’s busy taking it all in when he feels Yuuri’s fingers brush against his own, lacing in between. 

One by one, the neighborhoods show off their intricate floats, paraded around by men dressed up and, for the most part, falling apart drunk. They all shout the same chant, “Mase! Mase!” between rounds of roaring laughter as they carry the huge things on their shoulders. While only men can carry the floats, that doesn’t mean there aren’t children (Children!) climbing on top of them (and one very inebriated mayor, Yuuri explains with joyful tears in his eyes). Everyone’s dancing and shouting, regardless of whether they’re a part of the parade or just joining from the sidelines. 

When Toshiya passes with his neighborhood friends, the Katsuki family erupts with cheers and he points at them like he’s a rockstar because, in that moment, he kind of is. 

For the rest of it, Victor’s torn between watching Yuuri’s face as he raises his arms and joins in or trying to take pictures to send to Yurio. Gradually, it gets harder to focus on any details because Mari keeps magically producing sake “juice” boxes from her pockets and hands Victor one whenever his runs out. Warm and content he wraps himself in the moment as the sky grows darker. 

As the last float passes, the spectators fall in rank behind it to follow the procession to the shrine grounds where each float is set up in an assigned, roped-off place where it will be burned once dusk passes and they descend into night. 

Mari grabs Yuuri and drags him towards a food stand and Victor watches them bob in the crowd from his vantage point at least at head or two above most other people. He keeps moving with the crowd, trying his best to keep an eye on the two siblings. 

He feels a smaller hand fold into his. Victor snaps his attention to his right to see Hiroko beaming up at him. She squeezes his hand inside of hers and holds on. Victor smiles, his chest feeling a little tight. He rearranges their hands so his is around hers. Victor stands a little taller to look for Mari and Yuuri, but takes smaller steps so Hiroko can keep up more easily. 

Yuuri and Mari eventually push back over to them with fried chicken on sticks, little plastic containers of yakisoba, and some grilled corn perched precariously in their hands until they divide up their haul. They find a place to stand and eat as the floats are lit ablaze. The air fills with the crackling sounds of burning straw and bamboo and tiny bits of ash float in the sky and land on their clothes and the ground. 

Any hint of cold is erased by the heat of the eight or so bonfires and the whole town continues to eat and drink and celebrate together as time becomes unimportant. 

They find a bench to sit on eventually and Hiroko settles in between Yuri and Victor. 

“I’m cold.” She looks at Victor as she speaks in English and Yuuri laughs, saying something back to her in quick Japanese. Victor understands the words “hot,” “cold,” and “fire.”

Victor clears his throat. “I will help.” He says in Japanese and carefully places an arm around her shoulders. The look she gives him is enough to make him feel warmer than if he was standing inside one of the bonfires around them. 

The one Yuuri gives him is a close second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is my absolute favorite that I wrote this week. 
> 
> I based the festival off of one that took place near where I used to live in Japan. I adored it. I hope that showed here. Both this one and tomorrow's (I'm moving tomorrow, so we'll see when it goes up) focus on Victor and Hiroko and that aspect of "family." I know in canon we don't know anything much about Victor's past, but we've all filled in little bits with our own head canons. In my mind, Victor really, really needed a "Hiroko" in his life -- not in the same way he needed Yuuri, of course, but still very important.
> 
> Oh this is getting long, but it's YOI Pride Week, so why not -- I focused on family this week because my "found" family is so incredibly important to me. They know me better than the ones I was born to, that's for sure. I'm glad to get a chance to celebrate the found family I already have and have a chance to feel hopeful about the "Hiroko"s out there that I still have yet to meet. 
> 
> (Also, if you want to read a blog post I read about the festival I referenced, you can check it out here: https://theapplehaslanded.wordpress.com/2011/03/16/the-elephant-in-the-room/ It's about the festival, sure, but it's also about celebrating in the midst of tragedy -- I wrote it right after the tsunami hit in 2011. If you're interested, there ya go.)


	6. Day 6: Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Hiroko have established a little morning routine revolving around multilingual chats and tea. One morning, Hiroko shares some English she's been practicing so she can share what's in her heart.

This morning, Victor woke up a couple of minutes before his alarm. He grins, satisfied with his strong internal clock, and glad that his alarm won’t wake up Yuuri before he’s ready to start the day. Carefully stretching his long legs, he scoots away from Yuuri’s warm body next to him and slides out of the heavy pile of blankets on top of them and off his side of the bed. 

His body tingles from the cold air in the room surrounding his body. He lets himself relish in the sensation before the shivering starts to take over and he pulls on sweat pants and a sweatshirt from off of the floor and puts on the warm, winter-weather slippers Hiroko gave him a few weeks ago. “Too big for Toshiya,” she had said with a wink, “better for Vicchan.”

Victor shuffles out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom he shares with Yuuri and Mari. Sometimes he looks at all of their toiletries piled on top of one another and remembers his huge apartment back in Russia, everything neatly tucked away and out of sight. It looked like a home in a magazine. It felt like one, too, unlived in and empty. This is cramped but so much better, old fixtures and all. 

Face washed, teeth brushed, and the first part of his extensive facial care routine completed (the rest will happen later, one this layer sets in), Victor shuffles down the hallway and down the stairs into the kitchen. 

Hiroko’s already bustling about, changed and ready for the day. The kettle’s starting to whistle and Victor takes a seat at the kitchen table. A few weeks ago he tried to help Hiroko, feeling guilty about being waited on, but she gripped her hands in his sweatshirt, guided his body over to a chair, and made him sit. She sealed the deal by placing a kiss on his forehead. Victor would follow any directions she gave after that. 

Smiling, Hiroko holds up two mugs. She raises her eyebrows questioningly. Victor points to the one on her right, a bigger, homemade-looking one with a photo of a much younger Yuuri and Mari at a competition placed between a layer of plastic and the ceramic below. Hiroko takes the other, merchandise from Yuuri’s earlier years. Hiroko has dozens of these “Yuuri mugs.” Yuuri hates every single one of them. Victor, however, loves them, and loves that Hiroko purposefully picks from her collection for their early morning chats. 

Hiroko carefully pours the hot water and sets the mugs down on the table, placing a hand-wrapped satchel of loose tea leaves in each one. 

“Good morning, Vicchan.” Every morning they start in Japanese. 

“Good morning, Hiroko-san.” He gave up trying to call her Katsuki-san months ago after the way she scrunched up her face whenever he said it.

She still raises an eyebrow. Hiroko’s told him just her name is fine, no honorifics, but Victor can’t keep it from slipping off of his tongue. He’s still living in her home. He’s still eating the food she makes. He’s still definitely dating her son while doing both of those things. For now, he clutches at the suffix. 

“Did you sleep well?”

Hiroko asks this every morning, some polite early morning small talk, but Victor always feels a tug in his chest. There’s no way he and Yuuri’s sleeping arrangements have gone unnoticed by the entire family. 

This is why he still needs the “-san.” How can Hiroko so easily make him feel like a teenager again?

Victor nods, preparing his reply in his head, running through the words in a weird mix of Russian and English until they come out in Japanese. “I slept well. When it is cold, I sleep well.”

“It’s too cold now. I can see my breath in the morning.” She uses gestures with most of the words. She shivers when she says “cold.” She points to her eyes for “see,” and makes a motion like breath leaving her mouth for the rest of it. 

Victor can relate. While his high rise apartment back in Russia had every modern amenity - and then some - but he can remember pieces oh his own childhood home, more like a feeling than a distinct memory, just an assembly of walls and a roof, a gas stove doing its best. 

He attempts to use some new grammar, pausing as he thinks and reaches for the right words. “Do you think more snow will fall soon?”

Hiroko gives him a tiny, soft clap. Victor can’t help himself. He grins like a student receiving a gold star sticker. She replies, always speaking slower and using gestures. “Yes, I think more snow will fall soon. But -” she raises her tone for effect, “the most snow will come in February.” 

Victor feels a familiar, but unwelcome pinch in his chest. After the grand prix final, he’s not sure what their future holds yet. Yuuri talks to him about it, but they’re both so unsure. Victor’s own feelings on the matter sway with each day. He wants to be Yuuri’s coach forever. He wants to live in Hasetsu forever. He also misses Yakov and Yuri and Mila and Georgi and the tea shop down the street from his place and winter in St. Petersburg and Victor has no idea what to do with wanting so many things at once.

Where will they be in February?

“Do you like snow?” He asks.

Hiroko grimaces. “It’s pretty to look at, but then we have to shovel it away.” Victor laughs at the shoveling gesture she makes. 

“I can help.”

“No, no - you help Yuuri-kun.” She switches to English and shakes her head playfully. “Yuuri-kun needs so much help.” Hiroko giggles. 

“I’ll happily help Yuuri everyday.” He replies.

Hiroko smiles back, but Victor can tell she’s thinking about something when he face freezes for a moment at his reply. She drums her fingers next to her mug. Abruptly, she stands up, holding up one finger. “Please wait.” 

She steps out of the kitchen and comes back with a folded piece of notebook paper. “My homework.” She says in English. Hiroko sits down and unfolds it so only she can see what is written. “Minako help me. I practice with Minako.”

Hiroko clears her throat and Victor feels something well up behind his eyes at the image of Yuuri’s mother taking the time to practice something she wanted to tell him. He swallows his sip of tea and waits.

“Everyday, you help Yuuri. You help him more than skating. You help Yuuri be happy.” She inhales sharply and lets it out. “When Yuuri came back home I was very happy but Yuuri was so sad. Everyday sad. Now he work hard and laugh a lot.” She sets the paper down and Victor can see it’s a page full of translated words. Lots of it has been scratched out. Parts of it are circled with stars next to it. 

Victor swallows hard and bites his bottom lip. Hiroko’s not done. He won’t interrupt, but he wants to reach out and hug her so much. She has no idea what these words mean to him, at this point in his life. 

“Yuuri is so good, but,” she pauses looking down at the table, staring at the paper for a moment before continuing, “sometimes Yuuri does not believe in himself. Outside people say mean words. Not just about skating.” She meets Victor’s gaze and he can’t hold back the tears that begin to trickle down. When she looks at him, he knows exactly what she’s trying to say.

“Outside, people can be mean. Their hearts,” she runs her finger down the page, “broken. They do not understand. Here, “she knocks on the table twice, “here in our home, I have my family. Toshiya, Mari-chan, Yuuri-kun, and my Vicchan.” She inhales sharply again, reaching out to place her small hand on top of his. “Only happy hearts here.” She finishes, marking the end with a short sob escaping her mouth while her eyes light up. 

Victor stands up and closes the short distance between them, wrapping Hiroko in both of his arms. He lets everything go, crying in a way he knows isn’t perfect or pretty. Yuuri’s slowly chipped away at his walls and it hurts every time but it’s wonderful and he needs it. Holding Hiroko tight, listening to her whisper “my Vicchan” as she rubs his back makes him fall apart in a new way, in a way he needed just as much as he needed Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it! I'm east coast US, so it's just barely still Friday, but it's up. (Today was moving day and I just sat down, really sat down, for the first time all day. Phew.)
> 
> Sometimes when we write things it's because it's what we need to hear in that moment. I know fiction, both reading it and writing it, helps me process and I also get to put out into the world something that celebrates a fandom I love. Win-win!
> 
> This week has been just what I needed. I loved it so far. My piece for tomorrow is unfinished and it'll be moving day 2. It might be up tomorrow, it might be up Sunday, but it will arrive!


	7. Day 7: Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yakov have a heart-to-heart at the rink and Yuuri is truly folded in to Victor's skating family.

Victor and Yakov lean on the boards as Victor watches Yuuri loosely skate around to wind down at the end of his practice. 

“You did well this season, Vitya.” Yakov coughs next to him. “He was no match for Yuri, of course, but your Yuuri didn’t do too poorly. Maybe you didn’t do so terribly as a coach.”

Victor throws an arm around him and dramatically hugs him in a way he knows Yakov hates. He likes this. A return to their routines. But pieces have changed. 

“Thank you!” He beams, laying it on thick. “I tried to do everything you did, only, you know, better and with less scowling and yelling.”

Yakov grunts and pulls his body away. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re still an insufferable, impetuous child.” His face is turned away, but Victor knows the looks that accompanies this. To anyone else, Yakov would look grumpy, even angry. Victor knows better. 

“It’s good to be back, Yakov.”

Yakov huffs. “You never were one to pick the easy route.” Yakov sighs heavily. “When you were younger, I’d give you a routine that would easily score points and you’d have to go off and try to invent new elements.” He waves his arm in frustration. “Coaching and competing at the same time is insane. You’re insane, Vitya.” He laughs, low and gravelly. “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

Victor looks over at him and watches Yakov’s eyes follow Yuuri’s movement on the ice. 

Yakov coughs before he continues. “You’ll have to work ten times harder than what I saw today to get back to where I expect you to be.” He shifts his body to turn a little more towards Victor. “But maybe it wasn’t all for nothing.” 

He can feel where Yakov is pulling the conversation. Victor could sooner tell a roomful of reporters or a restaurant full of strangers everything he wants to say before he could tell Yakov. In fact, he has. He talks openly about being engaged and makes no effort to hide it, but he hasn’t had one slow, sincere conversation with the closest person he has to a father since they moved back to St. Petersburg. 

“I do love him, you know, very much.” The words come out quieter than he wants them to. 

Yakov doesn’t look up. “I know, Vitya. It’s written all over your face.” He says it like he’s frustrated, but the words catch Victor off-guard. 

Victor tries to dig for some retort, to pull the conversation away from something so sincere, but he comes up short. He just smiles softly and turns his face to meet Yakov’s. 

Yakov purses his lips, exhales sharply, then turns back towards the rink. “Not even a year ago I was watching you die as a competitor. I thought I could make you push through it, like I used to.” He grows quiet for a moment. “I guess your way turned out okay.” 

Before Victor can find the words to respond, Yuuri skates over to the rink exit next to them. There’s a wide grin stretched across his face, contrasting with the tired, but satisfied look in his eyes. Victor gently swipes strands of sweaty hair off of his forehead. Yuuri pulls back, laughing about how gross he is now. He starts to make his way towards the locker rooms, but not before Victor can prove how truly not gross Yuuri looks by tugging him into a messy kiss on the cheek. Yuuri looks wide-eyed at Yakov and pushes him off, stifling giggles as he walks down the hallway. 

“Do you need a kiss, too, Yakov?” Victor turns back around.

The older man grimaces deeply, but there’s mirth in those deep-set eyes. Yakov takes a seat on the bleachers next to the rink and grows still. Victor joins him in the quiet moments, waiting. There’s something Yakov’s been wanting to say. He can read him so well by now. Victor pulls at the cuff of his jacket feeling again like a vulnerable teenager. 

“I am -- content to see you smile again, Vitya.” He coughs, looking straight forward at the rink. “People will fight you over this. They will be ugly.” He pauses. “I know they already have.”

He’s right. The press have swung wildly in both directions after their engagement became public. Yuuri’s worn his heart on his sleeve throughout the past few weeks, the emotional drain showing in his tired eyes or the worried, pained expressions he wears when he gets stuck reading comments online. Victor’s born the burden for the both of them and pushed them both to focus on the positive. For every negative comment, he tries to show Yuuri, prove to both of them, the good they’ve done with positive comments from kids who are just like them who look up to both of them more now, who feel like they have a space where they belong even more now. 

It helps, but it’s hard.

Yakov continues. “It won’t be easy. Especially not here in Russia.” The silence grows deeper, the sting of that reality always something Victor wants to avoid. “But you have us - Mila, Yuri, Georgi in his own way, me.” His gruff voices grows as soft as it can go. Yakov claps him on the back. “Don’t hide who you’ve grown to be.”

Victor leans over on his shoulder and Yakov lets it happen. He feels fifteen again, reeling from bad press but stuffing it deep inside, hiding it behind teenage charm and sass until Yakov forces him to be still and sit in the moment. 

“Thank you.” He sniffs. “How many people get to see the soft side of the great Yakov Feltsman?” He snorts out a laugh. 

Yakov rumbles beside him, but says nothing.

Yuuri walks back in and Yakov stiffens, sitting up and forcing Victor to sit back up, too. Yuuri gives the two of them a look and Victor sniffles again and gives him a wink, patting the spot next to him.

Victor takes out his tablet, and as the two of them animatedly go over the videos Victor filmed over the past hour of practice, Victor feels Yakov watching him. He chooses his words with Yuuri carefully, trying to sound the same as he always does when he’s in coaching mode, but trying just a little harder. For the past few days, Yakov’s been critiquing his coaching as well as his skating. Victor feels a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. 

When they get up to leave, Yakov clears his throat beside them. “Lilia has req-- demanded that I ask you both to come to dinner tomorrow night.

“We’d love to!” Yuuri beams, leaning into Victor’s side. 

Victor pulls an arm around him. “We’ll see you tomorrow night. Should we bring anything?”

Yakov shakes his head. “No, I’d get in trouble again. Bring nothing, please.”

“Again?” Victor laughs. 

Yakov huffs under the added attention, turning on his heels to walk out. His voices carries behind him as he walks away. “Apparently I was supposed to invite you over sooner.” 

Victor pulls Yuuri into a tight hug, kissing his forehead. “Welcome to our weird little skating family, Yuuri.”

Yuuri hums, a soft laugh warming Victor’s neck. “It’s perfect.” He pulls back, placing a tired, slow kiss to his lips. “Now let’s get home. I’m starving.”

“Takeout?”

“Obviously. I don’t know how we’re ever going to get anything done in our apartment.”

They both laugh knowingly. The past few days have gone by in a blur of jet lag, moving stress, unpacking woes, practicing weariness, and the inescapable honeymoon-like high of moving in together. The peaks and valleys have left them deliriously happy and too tired to do anything that isn’t self-indulgent in the evenings. 

“You want anything in particular?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “Introduce me to another favorite.” 

Victor grins wide thinking about showing off his fiance and their rings to yet another one of his favorite restaurants, especially the little family-run ones who call out to the kitchen staff so they can celebrate with their favorite local celebrity and send the two of them home with a free desert and a bottle of wine so they can stuff themselves and talk as they watch St. Petersburg from his windows - or rather, Yuuri excitedly watches the cars and lights below while Victor stares and wonders how he ever, in a thousand years, got this lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a day late but hey, we just kept the goodness rolling. 
> 
> I am so, so, so happy I chose to participate in YOI Pride week. I had never written for the YOI fandom before, but this series is stupidly important to me, so I am very glad I did - ESPECIALLY for a week like this. I needed to write some of this and it sounds like some of you wanted to hear something like this - even if it was just for a needed dose of tooth-rotting sweetness (Which, hey, who doesn't need that sometimes?). 
> 
> All of you who subscribed, left kudos, bookmarked, or left comments - wow, just thank you. I didn't expect a response like this and it just lit up my whole week. My heart is full. I love you all, and every single one of us is wonderful JUST the way we are. Thanks, YOI fam. I can't wait to write for this fandom again! 
> 
> ALSO, OH MY GOD, YOI MOVIE. CAN WE ALL EXPLODE ABOUT THIS? I AM SO EXCITED. MY VICTOR!

**Author's Note:**

> Hooray! My first piece for YOI! This series means so much to me. So much, in fact, that I've been too nervous to write for it. Like, it's already perfect, don't touch it, leave our savior, Katsuki Yuuri, to be perfect forever, amen. 
> 
> Luckily, I have good friends who pointed out that was nonsense. Ah, our found families.
> 
> Speaking of which, a super big THANK YOU to [crousemouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crousemouse/pseuds/crousemouse) for reading over these and giving me feedback so I'd feel ready to post.
> 
> [Chat with me on twitter @HeyMellieJellie](https://www.twitter.com/heymelliejellie)


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